Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

"The Make-A-Wish Foundation ceased granting hunting trips in 1999, amid criticisms from animal rights groups. The Foundation explained that the decision was based on the danger of having a child in a weakened state handling firearms."

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

if you buy one i will include a free chapbook or drawing or somethingif you buy both I will include a free bonus book worth reading

you could also buy Kristina Born's One Hour of Television ($8), or No Colony #1 ($5), which is almost sold out. Issue 2 is sold out. Issue 3 will be coming by the end of the year. it is ridiculous. i will include free stuff with those too

my paypal is my email address which is my first and last name all one word no space at gmail

Monday, November 22, 2010

odd anchoring of twin but different ache in both arms: Left, a sore node on the bulb on top of the shoulder; Right, a longer running, more slowly throbbing warm glow near the elbow, months along; forced to sleep mainly on my back as one side or the other aches the other harder

everything is mostly fine; i am eating a lot of meals consisting of saltines paired with something i.e. honey or shredded cheese; those are actually the only two things, so there are two modes too

i've been sleeping rather fine. tired earlier than ever most nights and sleeping heavy without waking which i have not done in years and seems to spill over also into waking still, like more tired because of the backlog of approaching rest; i think we are going to go to kentucky for a minute next month and i am looking forward to old rooms

i have a new piece of a long novel in the new issue of this, an earlier chapter from the same piece that was in redivider last year or earlier this year, whichever that was, i can't tell what a day is anymore; i feel kind of itchy

just began a second section of what i think will be a five part novel that is different from whatever else i've done if i can remember anything about that

Saturday, November 6, 2010

wrote three paragraphs this morningwent to help move my father's things out of half of his room at the rest home, which will result in $1000 deducted from the rent, and will open the space for someone else to move in and share a room with him in the event the place becomes filled; he seemed upset my mother, sister, brother in law, and i were all there; he kept saying "I don't know what this is;" he did not at all notice the room's alterationwrote one more longer paragraph between the moving and going to dinner with the same people except dad, washed my clothesmy mother and sister ordered the same thing to eat: tofu, vegetables, and saucei ate very much sushi wearing three shades of blue and a green shirt long as a dressafter dinner we stopped at a used store and my mom bought a beckett play, i bought nothing, my sister bought something i can't rememberreturned to mom's and got in the bathtub and read the first half of christian hawkey's ventrakl until i felt so warm i put the book down and fell asleep in the tubgetting out standing in the mirror noticed a large vein seeming larger, darkermom asked why i did not tell her she'd been wearing three earrings all eveningleft my mom's house to go home, forgot my clothes in the house, had to come backstill feel too warmgoing to run 6 miles and come back and read the rest of the hawkeydrink the rest of the diet ginger ale in my fridge, maybe the gin, maybe watch a movie, probably sleep early if i can

Monday, October 18, 2010

"If I've written about my dilemma with this highhanded treatment of details and lack of concreteness, hiding behind a stiff, somewhat old-fashioned voice, it's because I'm embarrassed, shy--and afraid. Because I'm not free. Because I am what I am. Because I'm a member."

Sunday, September 19, 2010

it will be a delicious pie when it is sursurrated hard and long against the open sweetness of your bald throat, sure

so have some of the pie

come back when i am tired and i might be actually inside the house, i will be warm

i will negate you for your asking for the warmth of me also but i will give it, it is not a warm warm, it is a sash

it is the longest sash anyone inside this country with a shirt has ever put across his left breast laughing in this year, this is a thing you can believe

there are many things you might believe about the color of the circuit system above your heart's mash, but this is a mistake, it is not a mistake i'd prefer to correct in you most likely as when it becomes correct you might have something sharp to say

i don't need the sharpness, or the knocking, or your food or any shirts

there will be a great circus that comes to town soon, surely, and when that comes you will be an ash inside the the ash, blur thrown by the circus friendlies for a great gnashing when their teeth respond in tandem to the color of your maximizing flesh exposed to rain

all this rain i ate might make me heavy someday but i am done with that

i have the surface area divider on lend from koresh and judson

i have the box

come back here to the house and look again

come back and ask a question for god if you have the fuckmaster cojones, which you don't

Saturday, September 18, 2010

"This was maybe the worst book I've read in five years. The author is trying too hard to be unique, but doesn't have the talent to pull it off. Instead the book ends up feeling adolescent, indulgent and clumsily written." - "Kristen" 1 of 5 stars

"The prose is quite good, and the premise is interesting, but wow is it ever disgusting. Some of the descriptions were so vile that I could barely make it through the book--and it gets more repulsive as the book goes along. I think the author is talented, but I wouldn't recommend this to anyone." - "Sarah" 1 of 5 stars

"It's amazing that a book this poorly written could actually get published . . . These stories read like a bad imitation of Samuel Becket. Artsy, self-indulgent, pretentious, and just really, really bad. The kind of stuff I used to read and make fun of in my undergraduate writing workshops. Wish I could give this one less than one star." - "Lee" 1 of 5 stars

"Makes the characters from The Road look like a bunch of pussweeds." - "Andrew" 5 of 5 stars

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

"In polite stories the world had been made acquainted with the picturesque lives of these commonplace but worthy people. In detail their story had been told. Over the precipice in Yosemite the Bridal Veil Falls had been launching its water for a thousand years and ignorance was fattening his belly apace."

Despite a few protests from the People for the Ethical Treatment of Everything, the idea spread. Mike Kitchell exploded one:

Sean Lovelace shot some arrows at one:

And it became clear. The only way to truly finish Scorch Atlas was by destroying your copy. Thus: we propose a new contest. Destroy your copy. Better than any has destroyed before you. Smash it smear it, pepper it with flak, and digest it thoroughly. We want you to do your worst. Also acceptable: creative methods of destruction that don't necessarily destroy the book physically but endanger it, terrify it, or brutalize it. Like humiliating the book in public, or changing the text, or reading it aloud to your grandmother wearing a gas mask.

Post your video to YouTube or Vimeo. Let us know you did so at contest@featherproof.com by September 9th, 2010 (Scorch Atlas's birthday.) Then we'll pick a winner based on criteria of Risk, Bloodlust, Derring-do, Internet research, Smarts, and Pheromones Released.

ONE GRAND PRIZE WINNER will receive: the complete featherproof fiction catalog of books, including a signed, first edition (blackened edges) Scorch Atlas, in clean/perfect/mint condition, Ever by Blake Butler, both issues of No Colony, a t-shirt that says 'Knife That', mini-books, Kristina Born's One Hour of Television, stickers, a packet of Blake's hair, a book that Blake loves destroyed just for you, and a drawing he made in his sleep. It sounds like a joke, I know. But this grand prize package is SO NOT A JOKE. It's for real.

FIVE FIRST PRIZE WINNERS will receive a signed, first edition (blackened edges) Scorch Atlas, in clean/perfect/mint condition. To replace the one you mangled.

Sunday, August 8, 2010

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

today at the home when we came in there were four women singing together in a room full of older people sleeping. they were singing words without music, "oh i want to go home now, but the water is too high, oh i want to go home now." their voices were old and out of tune and strange in the room following my mother to wake my dad who almost never looks up these days from the ground.

later my mom told me that the song was a song one of the women had written and begun singing to herself around the home for weeks. at church sermons in the home on sunday she would sing it instead of hymnals, though on the days outside of church she would steal the tune. in this way others began to pick the song up. now they sing it often in long loops.

later in his own room my father recognized the first thing i've seen him recognize without prodding in the last few times i've seen him, the brief prechorus of an old 60s soul song that goes "oh oh oh." he sang it as if he had been cued to join in, then went back to trying to put the cookie on the floor.

Monday, July 19, 2010

Friday, July 9, 2010

nobody really actually believes anybody else or often listensmany of the things i have loved best i have never even seentonight the light coming through the red curtains has it apple-shaded enough to want to bite through, i think of someone's skin, i think of my skinany hour i don't talk to my mother i am growing very oldthough often when i am actually around my mother my skin makes such loud noise i can hardly thinkanother housei should probably bite the skin and eat it and digest it, it would birth a set of clothesi would wear the clothes and go near people, it would stink loudtoday at the glass door to the backyard the blue bird from yesterday appeared again he seemed to knock twice i was looking for foodtwo bananas and various forms of pretzel dipped into wettish substance i read your instructions for how to not want to eat, the worm of slight repetitions under long mind, something stretched in big sound of fire at an aspin the bathroom i read john cage saying in so many words because there is no message there need not ever be responsethe buttons on this machine could find a way to type a message to someone larger than this home i'm sure but i don't have the sight inside me any more this year or i am too smushed or stupid or there is the color of my bonesi don't think i need to be any body ever over numbers, there could exist a perfect mall, another one and i could buy a machine that stitched itself against this one here and sent itself into the center of the lockthe rhyming machine the color machine the ten boxes of brownie mixmy father's ring somewhere hidden in the house unless mom found it, i can't not remember which, i can't not remember if i actually can not remember or if i am willfully allowing disambiguation in the name of saying something more indirectly in the hope that something like a hole or god could find its way into the stupid typing these days do not even demand but more likely give me something i can bend, something worth laughing at in public and ignoring every night now that i have been remaindered now that everyone is greasecan't even remember the last time i saw an insect other than the one i crushed the other night under a soft booki had not read the book and likely never will

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

the machine in my house won't stop beeping, someone is therearound 4 am i climbed onto the bathroom again and tried to hoistblack shit on my arms, found pieces of the swiffer under my pillowsometimes there is this weird dark dust on the seat of the toileti think i talked to the two men in the guardroom for 15 minutes about godbut they were talking about ladders and i kept trying to close the door"Here he moved, to and fro, from the door to the window, from the window to the door; from the window to the door, from the door to the window; from the fire to the bed, from the bed to the fire; from the bed to the fire, from the fire to the bed; from the door to the fire, from the fire to the door..."i need to begin again at something, no food, no light, no speech, no persons outsideget a little longer in your mind's bitch before i come back and there's a darker knobmake a sandwich have a baby bring me the plastic doll i asked for age three to have something to beat the shit from and did not get until it was too late

Saturday, June 12, 2010

I had microsoft word summarize the sections I have deleted so far from my nonfiction ms about sleep into 100 words or less, here's what it said:

In my head the light went white. I lay face-up in my bed, the room full of a soft light. The color of all sound. The light contained infinite terror, growing slick up my insides. The light continued. A gone light. The circuit woke.

The horror of bodies, speech. If the sleepwalker walks through unknown cities then there must also be a language for the people there lit inside the tunnels of the head.

i have changed my name to joey, please only refer to me as joey from now on if you refer to me which isn't required

pretty much on the desk here there are a few things including a letter from my mother about why her computer does not work and a red marker and a black marker and a chip clip but no chips

i can't stop saying the phrase 'they were eating it up like dowgs' which is something that a now dead person said in one of his several hundred recorded songs. the phrase has learned to override the words coming out of other people too

the other day my mother put her hands on both my sides and said that i looked very thin

i have already this year read more books than i read last year because of the bike machine which by the time i am finished with each session has two huge pools of sweat beneath the parts where my arms are above it during the time i ride on the bike that does not move. many of the people who bike or lift or run will come and wipe down the machines they've touched when they are finish but i don't do that. the other night there was a corner of a piece of velveeta cheese on the concrete it made me sad

i don't like the guard guy who won't ever raise his hand or speak to me no matter how directly i say hello or wave at him, i think he talks to other people fine

i think big boi was grillin out with some of his dudes by our pool the other day, he was turning meat with a large silver thingie

there are games you can make up it is fun when you make up games it is like there was something waiting to be played all this time and you found it just like that

i am conie the sellfish punk but i would rather be conie at the stroke of midnight like my sister is

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

"there is also disappearance, contagion, military murder, telekinetic fire, hurricane, catastrophic subsidence, infant death, mutation, being eaten by animals, oceanic evaporation, suicide, glutinous rain, quicksand topographies made of mud, sky lesions, a massive wall overtaking the earth and total flooding of the landscape... Far from an escape into some sort of monumentalism of destruction, this anti-realistic concentration of ruin perfectly zeroes in on our inveterate inability to actually picture the end, to consider its lobster. It’s in this act then that the true momentous dismay and oppressive compulsion to want to avoid disaster that the inevitability of apocalypse should spirit into us (but doesn’t) is recuperated in the form of an apocalypse of such total immensity it could never come telling us that we risk facing not the impossible but the all too possible."

Thursday, May 20, 2010

Sunday, May 16, 2010

coming up out of the pool water opening my eyes at the same time today i saw my father in a fraction half-deleted standing halfway between me and the house turned profile and much younger with his head down he was wearing all white the gray of the house in partial shade matched exactly the shade of the concrete of the deck and in the instant of his pixel damaged body disappearing again in the shaking off the water from my face skin and my hair it was as if i had become living in a version of the house left otherwise somewhere else which in the lapping level of the water at my chest was the year my mother found me facedown in the deep end and the gray was also on the air

Thursday, May 13, 2010

"A girl who's riding with neither spurs nor stirrups is trying to make her white mare go into the ocean; the mare is shying water is spurting out from all sides under its shaking hoofs among the clear laughs of the Amazon whose body is as sharp and bright as metal, suddenly, what I see, in this shifting light this."

Monday, May 10, 2010

i gave blood to the red cross eleven times todayi drew up a bunch of badges with different names and costumesthe one lady with the cookies recognized me after the 6th giving and wouldn't let me have any more cookiesshe winked about the blood part, she had diamond grillznow i'm emptied out pretty goodi hired a mexican woman to drive me home, her name was portcullis, i shit you noti'm going to have a baby

Sunday, April 25, 2010

QUASIMOTO how much can you delete i can delete a lot, the way madlib trades verses with himself as quas in shifted pitches hurts my gristle like a good lightGUCCI MANE jumping big rocks in the street even the dogs here will walk out in front of your car like who's this mofuckerBONE THUGS the subs in my car make the metal go like the car is dead inside, it sucks to rolls the windows down cuz it kills that ouch, makes me breathe my air over and overTHREE SIX there are clear castles between the traffic lights, you can go in the stairwells where the bums piss and it's like something rising through you, across the street from that is the sub shop where they give you love for coming in the doorTUPAC even while you get an older body there's the year you drove late in florida and that street wouldn't come back now if you went looking for it but it's out thereBIG BOI don't need a largess need a game machine and someone for sundays, some grits and cheese and a doughnut and a mouth to see it besideFAT PAT grillin up in the white apartment closet laughin and makin candy out of days that felt like nothing "see a different level of the game fo sho"

most days i take two showers, one when i get up and one covered in sweatsometimes i combine the two into one

DOOM i would be better off with a set of sweatpants for sure, or a tattoo of the pants along my knee; hide out and make money for your child, even if the child doesn't existPROJECT PAT this room could be even smaller than it is, there are never enough cookies, get a houseparty started in your kitchen, sweatpantsZ RO let the game squirt w/o you, show up when it's hot, get a box and take some homeMIKE JONES today my father pulled a black hair out of the pad holding him in his wheelchair and held it up at light, said "we need to make me a dress out of this one"DIZZEE RASCAL don't leave come back sit on the bed with me smile and let's have cookies and come around or do what you need i want to BUN B "ain't nothin changed everyday aint nothin chay-ange" the long rhythm of the tree that isn't under this house and the rat that ran wet through here and died so i came home to smell, i don't plan on leaving again lately, it's still smallT.I. the roof on the building i walked into looked like it had been set to the edge with a big bic lighter and clicked and dragged, lunchmeat shaderoof and an erased playground, they had ice cream inside

Saturday, April 17, 2010

margarietas and the nachoewith chips plus cheeseran a cargirl looked said go back to friendsgirl looked and was a lez

i have nothing for iti have no dogsdead mouse smelled like me

i was going to eat dinner with momshe was lateshe saw my father pushed behind a desk couldnt movehe had teeth stilli am going to not go

hung out with the cat hastingshe didnt want to talkthrew a ball for him to look athe half atehe stayed in the stayroom

i left

i have a friend york he's nicewe rode the white vanwe disliked similarand liked similarthere was a mexican band

two doughnuts is troubleif you are trying to drive and peopple have problemsbithcass neighbor with the blackheaded dogsaw me coming didnt front like she wasnt going inside cuz she saw mejust went on in

coolgood move ill rep it too if i can get my hard shittupac is deadbone is tryingi am dogsi am tots

Thursday, April 1, 2010

I am guest editing Everyday Genius for April, have a lot of fun and messed up googa to throw at you, beginning today with Laura Carter. Look on there weekdays this month and words will be there.

Thomas Kendall wrote about reading Scorch Atlas at Transductions, which has become one of my favorite sites. He goes, "Scorch Atlas punches evolution in the kidneys."

going to Houston tomorrow to hang with Gene at the Houston Book Fair, then we ride in a van to the AWP. scheduled a lot of crap in many arenas over a breadth of time, whoops, here's where i will send a body of me:

Saturday, March 27, 2010

Friday, March 26, 2010

some sofa opened a can of bacon on me in pretend last nite on the sofa where you used to sit and i would sit on the other sofa and

everyday in the wall on the opposite side of my building a man comes and opens a box and puts abodhfoaiusdofiuasodifuoasiudfoiuasodifuaposidufpoiausdpoifuaposidufpoiausdpofiuasopdifuopaisudfpoiuasopdifuaopisdufopiajsd;ofja;skdjf;lkajsdl;fkja;slkdjfl;kajsd

why am i bothering to pretend i care about anything but tacos today or yesterday and not even tacos but the negative image of them leaving me in the gym room where every night for the past two weeks this kid has come in right after me around 11 pm and turned on the tv as loud as it will go to watch espn while i am on the stationary bike reading a book because i fucked up my ankle kicking the wall in the bathroom out of terror even if that's not really what i did

with the tv on and running my muscles there are two sets of words

i can place the brain on one or the other mostly and sometimes there are whole walls that get made

the kid always comes in before and leaves after me

the other night another guy told me not to drink the water from the cooler because there is black mold in the spigot, i have been drinking the water every day for as long as i can remember since we moved back in, except for the weeks they blocked the gym to do landscaping though i never saw anybody doing any work

that one night there was the naked woman having pictures taken of her in the window and i was walking past below and i did not stop even when she had her hand on the glass between us and was smiling

when i came back after exercise she was gone

i know i went and stood a second near the brick beside the pool and there wasn't any smell

the night we had to leave and go see a movie because the a/c broke

yellow undertone of bathroom light that isn't really a color at all

you took one mirror i kept the otherplease come get mineor bring yours back

boy aphex twin mostly sucksbut a lot of people still have him on their computers

not going to say anything else about anything else except the crap ringing my ears from the blue earstopper things i got from jamie's wife that block out so much sound, it's like sleeping in someone's armpit, i still haven't washed the sheets since the last day your stuff was all over the floor

the color of the floor is dark enough that when you scratch it it really shows

in the ice machine there is one huge crag of ice that almost all the cubes that come out stick to, and then there are the dozen or so cubes that hang out around and underneath that and are easy to pick up and use to cool a drink

i bought three kinds of soft drink last time i was at the grocery but two of them have caffeine though they did not seem to have caffeine when i bought them so now there's only one kind i feel ok enough about to drink at night, and i still don't stay home in the day, so

the neighbor's dog started barking againi guess she took off the machine that squirts itin the face when it makes noise

in bed i think about cutting a hole into her apartmentso i can go sit beside the dog and look into his mouthwhen the other neighbor lived there for a while i thoughthe was making meth in the bathtub and maybe the station might blow upthat was before the tornado hit the building and after that you moved ini'd put an official count here of the number of days but i have no ideas

Thursday, March 18, 2010

"That’s right, wordshit, bury me, avalanche, and let there be no more talk of any creature, nor of a world to leave, nor of a world to reach, in order to have done, with worlds, with creatures, with words, with misery, misery."

Sunday, March 7, 2010

no one was what god is what god is what god is gos god is gog gog is gods godds is is is is is is ilooked in the window of the window and the window waswas was window was was i looked looked hard andand was window where was i am no one was anything to methere there i waslook at the window of i i am am am am i was is is is isi could have seen you so hardcould have licked that where the iceand the time waswaswaswaswasnothing looked long enough in eyesin eyes of god of gos of no one lookingeating ashing crud of mother of the shitcried in a bar this night at someone saying go offfor wanting to die whenwhen when was was was was was wwas was wasi don't have the wherewithall to be the person i know i ami have the no door in the assi can't even say hi to the one roomsayingsayingsaying hello saying hi or nothe smell of my clothes the touch of half legs halvinghaving nowhere to know for dinnerwads of say

Foot is kind of fucked, not sure how but have been limping for two weeks. Switched to stationary bike in the meantime, which is actually giving good results in change of moves. Also able to read fatter books in the process there, about halfway now through Joshua Cohen's Witz, which is just something I've been waiting for for a long time, and delivers even more than I expected. Review forthcoming.

The 2nd issue of Gigantic is out, and I have a list in it, along with a slew of amazing others. The design on this issue is just insanely nice and new. $7 is unbeatable. They are doing it right.

Problemz this week.Ok.

Come watch Dorothea Lasky read live tonight at HTMLGIANT, 9 PM Eastern. Her new forthcoming book Black Life is just gorgeous, and power.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

being home is good. feel kind of like a moron a lot. had a good time out west though. saw some people i'd known a long time and never met, relaxed, ate food, ate mexican food every day but one, played live cards for the first time in more than a year and won $, spent $ at powell's which was a very nice store, spent 4 hours at city lights and bought nothing on purpose, had a car campout, petted simmons's cat who i liked even though i couldn't breathe him, talked some, slept some, didn't drink that much, liked the west coast feel.

while i was out Molly Templeton wrote a review of Scorch Atlas for the Eugene Weekly that is very excellent and kind indeed: "I think I fear it — its relentless and overwhelming vision, and the power Butler has to drill a hole in my chest with language. But Butler’s strange masterpiece doesn’t ask for your love. It demands your attention."

Nicolle Elizabeth wrote a review for The Brooklyn Rail that is also very kind: "Performing as an ashen, crumbling work in our hands, the work urges us to push forward before it—and we—turn to dust."

having returned home i am on a new regimen. no drinking, except special occasions, which was pretty much true anyway. running 7 miles at least 4 days a week and 3.5 miles the other three days. reading a lot. putting final edits on this novel, very close i think. more sleep book work and beginning a collaborative project that is very exciting and that will stay quiet for now, except to say it is with two people i admire massively.

Monday, February 1, 2010

A chapter from my completed-last-year novel-in-waiting, Decade, appears in the new issue of Redivider. It's the first long section of the book to be published, maybe the only. There's some weird typographic layout shit going on in it, which looks nice in the Redivider style. There are at least 5 voices going on at various times. It is called, "Our Anniversary, Repeated." Thanks to Brooks Sterritt and Matt Salesses for the time.

Michael Kimball, Dan Chaon, and many other excellents also appear.

A week from today Jamie Iredell and I are going to the west coast for a brief-ish trip, doing some readings.

Thursday, January 28, 2010

crod in the boxbox daddad was a weeblo before me in the same cultcutting little ones for strip barseating dicei am hungrier when u rwhen u u would have heyhey i am seven dollars short of a biggurl pony to take awayamerica is the bestof the best of the weeblos when we eat those cakes shaped like treesthat aren't trees but have lights on them alsoshityou shouldn't say crod in the box when you are a box dadand will never have a sonexcept to go to clubs withthrowing animals out of the way to get to the big doorthe bigger door than that

Monday, January 25, 2010

fine tuning this novel is making me dizzy. near the end of turning in a draft. i think it is called The Black Gazebo.

in the editing and fine tuning it is gathering some kind of exponential gathering i had only guessed in knowing as make, it is funny to stare and sudden click after many peerings

read this past weekend in Ann Arbor for the kickoff of Great Lakes Great Times reading series with Brian Evenson and Joanna Howard. was very calm and nice and good, good crowd, felt exciting

the first night i had nachos. the second night Brian ordered nachos and i felt glad

i am reading Wayne Koestenbaum's biography of Andy Warhol, called Andy Warhol, which is really interesting. i didn't know Warhol had made an early adaptation of A Clockwork Orange where his worker Gerard plays Alex and is subjected to drugs, actual drugs, during the treatment, a torture scene of sorts. i don't know where if anywhere you can find this

oh, it's called Vinyl. it's on youtube. there. not that cool. don't watch it. just think of what you think it could have been.

last night I watched the movie Sugar, it's probably the closest thing I've seen to a film version of Ever, at least in parts, though there is murder in it. it's a woman locked in her apartment. it's worth seeing, some amazing tactile scenes

very nice review of Ever by Angela Stubbs at The Collagist, thank you Angela and Matt

listening to Acid in the Style of David Tudor a lot, especially while editing, it makes me feel itccccccccccccc